Page 28 of The Alpha's Broken Oath

Electricity coils in every cell of my body, and I’m transported back to his office when he kissed me and I pulled away. I’m transported to that night in the woods when our mate bond first burned between us, and it doesn’t compare to the way it lits up aflame when Deacon snags my waist with one hand pulling me to his body while the other hand fists my hair deepening the kiss.

His lips pry mine open, and in no time, our teeth clash, and our tongues fight like tortured lovers learning their way back to each other. I tell myself I should stop this, but stopping this means facing my nightmare and means pretending that I don’t feel the shock and warmth that pools between my legs, threatening to throw me off the edge of a cliff from a single touch.

The sound of our lips clashing almost rivals my moans as I scratch Deacon’s chest with my nails, praying to the Goddess that I leave marks beneath that shirt he’s wearing. I might like this, but I might just hurt him to show him this is nothing but a spur-of-the-moment type of thing.

The boy who made love to me a few years ago is nothing like the man who fists my hair and nips the skin at my neck, going all the way down to my blouse and ripping the buttons away with his teeth. The buttons clatter against the ground, my blouse rips open at the front, and the sight of my pink bra reflects in Deacon’s eyes like two shiny beacons.

Deacon doesn’t speak when he buries his face between my breasts. I don’t expect him to speak because I know if he does, the spell between us will be broken, and the lust brought by the bond between us will shatter and remind me I’m weak for letting him in.

He takes off my coat and blouse, and I let him.

His teeth tug at my already swollen nipples, the pain and the pleasure of it all sending my hands to rest against one of the steel walls, and I let him.

His tongue sucks the throbbing in my nipples, and all I can anticipate is the feel of his mouth on my pulsing clit.

This is what happens when you remain untouched for years. The pleasure takes hold of you, and once you are all in, there’s no escape.

There’s no escape for me as Deacon kneels on the floor of the elevator, hiking my skirt up till it bunches around my waist and kissing my pussy through my already-drenched panties.

There’s no escape for me as his fingers deftly pull my lacy pair of undies down my legs. A second later, with my hands against the wall and my feet off the ground, my thighs are on Deacon’s shoulders with his face buried between my inner thighs.

“This greedy, whiny cunt still smells like mine, Winter. Mine to taste, fuck, and fill with my come, yes?”

Goddess. No. No, he’s not right. I’m not his. I’ll never be his again.

His tongue dives inside me, and my toes curl. Deacon’s name flies out of my lips with a pant before I add, “Yes.”

The first orgasm hits me like a freight train. Stars narrow my vision, and Deacon eats me out while I ride an orgasm that feels like I’m chasing a high.

Not allowing me a moment to overthink or figure out where we are still locked at my second orgasm comes in the form of me riding Deacon’s fingers as he embeds himself in me, rubbing that sweet spot inside me that no one has touched for years.

I cum with a cry. I ride his fingers, and his mouth like a stripper who’s found her favorite pole, and the most shameless thing is, I can see my face in the reflection of the polished steel wall. Perverted. Lustful. Too hung up on desire to think straight.

Sucking my clit once, twice as the second orgasm wears off, Deacon slowly stands up with me in his arms. Our eyes clash once more, and I wrap my hands around his neck and my legs around his torso, careful not to fall.

His eyes mirror adoration. My eyes convey hate.

The pull of his body against mine feels like love. I know it’s not love. This is sizzling lust. This is the kind of hate fucking ex-couples do, and it literally means nothing to either of them.

This is me letting off steam.

With no words exchanged, our lips find each other again, and the taste of both of us on his lips is enough to send me into a spiral, especially when I feel his hard cock poking my entrance. Especially when I feel this is happening, and I don’t have the strength to stop it, nor do I desire to.

“Sit on my cock, Winter. Let me have your cunt again, baby.”

In his arms, his huge hand on my back, my thighs tangled around his torso, I do as Deacon commands. I sit.

I guide him inside me, feeling the familiar and yet surprising way his cock stretches me, taking all the breath from my lungs and rearranging my insides.

Hanging onto his shoulders for dear life, I pace my breathing as Deacon moves inside me with one hard thrust. The thrust itself feels like a sharp slice of a knife. My lungs squeeze the oxygen inside them. Deacon’s groans mix with my moans, and our sounds rain down on me like needles pricking my skin in a good, tantalizing way.

The discomfort of having him inside me subsides with the long, luxurious kisses that Deacon rains on my mouth, cheeks, neck, and breasts. He stops every now and again, not wanting to come, to suck one of my nipples into his mouth and lick around it. He caresses my face and swipes stray locks of hair from my forehead. He is moving inside me as though he’s done it a thousand times before, but he is also careful and gentle.

Each thrust is a testament to how perfectly we fit together.

“You feel how your cunt swallows my cock, baby? Like she was made for me?”

“Mmm.”

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